


My twelve famous dads are forcing me into an arranged marriage, help!

by jaydenmaeda



Category: One Direction (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Asshole Worship, Blow Job, Drama, Erotica, F/M, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Frottage, Gay Sex, Hand Job, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Rim job, Virginity, Young Love, ball worship, buff taehyung, butt plug, cow jimin, dirty socks, uncircumcised, used socks, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydenmaeda/pseuds/jaydenmaeda
Summary: I didn't choose this life. I didn't want this life. I wasn't built for this life.But it's my life. And I have to life it.





	1. Prologue

Living with twelve guys was a little exhausting, to say the least. 

It was fun, don’t get me wrong. But there were some things you just couldn’t ignore, like the tangy waft of nutsack that permeated every inch of the house. 

It didn’t matter if the windows were open. It didn’t even matter if every single man in the house was clean. It just stank. And so I crawled mercilessly, much like a worm in search of moisture, craving the sweet endowment of fresh air. 

Now, you’re probably wondering how I got here in the first place. And I’ll tell you! It all started when I was born. Well… maybe even further back than that. 

You know in biology class when they tell you that the sperm of a man fertilizes the egg of a woman, and the end result of that sweaty hormonal gorilla sex is a newborn child? Well, I wasn’t made like that. 

I was conceived on the Eve of a particularly whoreish night. Twelve men, twelve cocks, twelve spurts of coagulated genetic material, all expelled onto the sloppy breasts of some cheap hooker. Maybe it was the full moon, or the heat and sweat between her tit flaps, but for some reason or another… My body started forming. 

My twelve fathers weren’t exactly… Normal guys. They had paparazzi on their heels most days, and their generous salaries were prosperous enough to sustain a multi-million dollar mansion. 

It was strange, really. Millions of years of evolution had never seen something quite as remarkable as the birth of yours truly, and it had witnessed many wondrous sights. Much like the development of hominin and hominid species throughout the ages. 

Did you know that, utilizing our recorded fossils, we can discern that bipedalism occurred as a direct result of climate change? Many ancestors of modern humans were quadrupedal, which means their primary form of locomotion was orchestrated using four limbs. Due to a particularly devasting wave of climate change, the lush woodlands in which our ancestors once reigned eventually transgressed into savannahs, and this was one crucial environmental factor that led to bipedalism.

These ancestors used their arms to navigate between the branches of trees, and so, with that absence of abundant woodland, elongated arms were no longer required for brachiation. Bipedalism therefore occurred as a direct response to the environmental changes which prevailed due to global warming.

The most well-documented theory of human evolution propagates the idea that Homo Erectus, an ancestor of modern humans, migrated out of Africa roughly two million years ago. This was also due to climate change. Climate cooling caused the sea levels to drop significantly, providing ‘land-bridges’ for our Homo Erectus ancestors to cross in order to reach Europe and Asia. Most biological scholars tend to accept the notion that the Homo Sapiens species appeared only after the migration out of Afria, and there are numerous documentations of evidence to prove this. 

But, anyways, I’ll make it clear now, in case you still aren’t sure about my situation. My fathers, Niall Horan, Jeong Jungkook, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Rap Monster, Min Yoongi, Harry Styles, Kim Seok-Jin, Jung Hoseok and Liam Payne all belong to the multi-billion dollar boy groups: Bulletproof Boy Scouts and One Direction. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking:  _ ‘Ugh, I’m so JEALOUS! That’s every girls dream!’ _

Er… You might be right, it probably is. 

Except I’m a boy. 

And this is my story.


	2. Chicken Nugget

Yawning pathetically, I blinked the eye-snot out of my lashes. The day was ripe and swollen, and I was eager to grip that juicy potential by the balls, hard, rough and erotically. 

I was still stretching the sleep from my limbs when my dad Harry styles burst in. “H-Hey kiddo. Could you come downstairs real soon?” 

His voice seemed unusually timid. It was strange for him to be shy, considering his impressive career as a multi-talented superstar. The brunette coils of his hair bounced sweetly as he pranced downstairs. 

I didn’t want to go downstairs. Human contact was utterly disgusting. Sure, I was deprived of attention constantly, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be loved. I was still a calm and stable person despite having no parents. 

My twelve dads were always busy. Constantly away on business trips, doing tours, random performances here and there, fan-greets, all of that corny shit. And people loved them. In fact, the people loved them so much that they would work 9-5 jobs at minimum wage, and use the pathetic salaries they accrued to see my dads instead of paying their rent.

I was never allowed out of the house with any of them. They worried I would get stolen- or worse, exploited as a child star. 

Living with twelve high-end celebrities was somewhat overwhelming. Success and excellence were rewarded handsomely with the fickle pleasures of the human economy. I admired them, truly- but no amount of flawless stage performances could ever compare to the astounding actions of Alexander the Great. 

Alexander inherited the throne of his father at the mere age of twenty. Not only that, but he implemented military discipline in order to deter his Greek subjects from inciting a political overthrow. He was aware of the tensions within his kingdom, and his strategic excellence allowed him to lead with even more success than his father, Philip II of Macedon. 

Let’s not forget the countless victories he sustained throughout the duration of his campaign. And, symbolically, he was also the first man to set foot on the continent of Asia. His actions as a leader and as a classical figure were beyond mesmerising and admirable. 

But none of that mattered. Not in this house.

Sighing, I dragged myself listlessly down the marbled tiles of our luxurious staircase. Situated at the very base of the stairs was my twelve homosexual dads. And… A veiled woman.

  
“Well, look who finally dragged his ass out of bed!” My dad Park Jimin yelled, his fat bum cheeks shaking furiously with each belligerent step he took. 

  
  
My dad Kim Taehyung smiled fondly as he spanked my dad Park Jimin right on the bum hole. Hard. “Don’t speak to my son that way, Jimin-Oppa.” He mewed, his eyes dark with emotion.

Running a slender hand throughout the canopies of his blonde locks, my dad Niall Horan could not contain his contempt. “Look… Can we just cut to the chase, guys?”

The… Chase? I was still partly asleep. It was probably obvious from the dishevelled texture of my hair and the prominent rings that stained the spaces beneath my eyes that I had no idea what the fuck was going on. Why was there a… F… Female…. In our palace?

My dad Min Yoongi purred as he approached me, his words as soothing as ever. “Son, you must be confused,” He clasped me within the warmth of his loving embrace, smoothing those pathetically small hands over the wide, expansive space of my back. 

Torn from the benevolent warmth which I so craved, my dad Zayn Malik picked me up and hoisted me over his shoulder, and I complied without kicking up much of a fuss. 

“You will sit.” He muttered, his voice low and harsh. 

My butthole vibrated with fear as I was catapulted onto one of the couches in the living room. What the hell was going on?!

All twelve of my sexy, lecherous fathers crowded around me. It seemed as though they were all too wary to utter any words, but, as per usual, my dad Park Jimin had something to say.

“I got tired of watching you wasting your life away. Yeah, I know you’re only 17, but it isn’t productive or normal to jack off more than five times a day. You have issues. You have sincere mental problems. I get it, you’re a teenager, yada yada yada, but it’s really hard to scrape your cum from the ceiling.” He articulated each sentence with a scrunched nose and a dangerous glint in his chocolate eyes.

“S-so, my beautiful son,” My dad Kim Taehyung smiled sweetly before continuing, “We have… Something for you.”

  
  
My dad Jeong Junkook interjected nervously: “It’s a virgin from New Caledonia. We bought her from this random indigenous boy claiming to be her brother.”   


“Yeah, we got her cheap ‘cause apparently she was of little value to him. Stole all of his money on Roblox or something.” Muttered my dad Min Yoongi, who peered awkwardly at the cloaked girl. 

The fuck was roblox? Well, it’s not like that mattered much. Shuddering, I glanced in the direction of this exotic girl. 

Her face was concealed behind a rippling veil which framed the features of her face somewhat perversely.    
  


“Ok,” I muttered, turning back to face all of my twelve famous dads. “Can I ask…  _ Why?” _

  
  
In the silence that followed, my dad Jimin shot forwards, gasping, his shit-coloured eyes alight with fiery plumes of anger. “You ungrateful little bitch!”

“I devote my  _ time _ and  _ energy-” _ he spluttered, hands reaching for my exposed throat, “All for  _ what _ ?! You slimy, RACIST, hole, BASTARD!”    
  


The passionate strength of his fingers- they were so cold. Curling around my trachea with such chilling precision. Melting. Me.

_ “Father…”  _ I whimpered, though my lips betrayed my disinterest. 

Nothing had changed. It was like I was in kindergarten again, nestled in the fat tits of our discrete maid, crying from some pseudo pain in my chest. I did it all for attention. So that he would stop calling me a virgin. And yet, now, today, I began to contemplate if it was real.

  
  
“Sweet little boy,” she’d murmur, stroking my hair tenderly, “It’s your heart, carved clean and melting. Diminuendo at the end of those dreadful sonatas you so lament.” 

She was right, of course- I hated the music that my fathers produced. Deplorable, sloppy, whoreish, indecent, generic… It was fucking awful. Each painful note etched into the skin of my back with those cold fingers, indifferent of my tears and the blood and the agony and oh, the years of suffering I endured, all orchestrated by the shaking hands clasped around my throat. 

The churning masses of his fans- they would never fucking know his true nature. How could they?

“Die as a virgin, you pulsating butthole sniffer!”

  
Just as my eyes began rolling towards the back of my skull, the pressure on my throat subsided. 

Life was so unexpectedly beautiful. 

My dad Taehyung had grabbed my dad Jimin by the skin of his back, and, with a low grunt, hurled his body out of the luxurious awning. Glass shards erupted, glittering delicately amongst the precious furniture that adorned our living room. 

It all happened so fast.   
  


Taehyung turned around to face me in slow motion, his eyes shining as he ran his toned hands through the thick waves of his hair. He curved his spine and flexed his tight butt cheeks nonchalantly, smiling at me with unguarded love. 

  
  
“A-are you bloody okay?!” My dad Niall choked out, glancing frantically at the swollen marks on my neck with concern. 

  
“...Don’t pretend to care about me, asshole.” I muttered, rubbing the back of my head awkwardly.

  
  
I spared a glance in the direction of the cloaked girl. One question plagued the canopies of my mind: What the  _ fuck  _ was going on?!


	3. I hate my job and my life

My dad Harry Styles smiled awkwardly, entangling his own fingers in the curly locks which adorned his scalp, “Well, now that the vermin has been exterminated… I guess we should explain ourselves.”

  
  
“You were born with a gift.” My dad Min Yoongi interjected, his eyes alight with passion.

  
  
As if to restore some notion of clarity within the minds of this dysfunctional family, my dad Jungkook halted his own hyperventilation in order to whine out his thoughts. “If our calculations are correct… Erm… How do I say this…”

He trailed off at the harsh sound of colliding flesh, a perverse collection of rhythmic squelching which permeated the luxurious expanses of our living room. Stunned, I felt psychologically disturbed at the sight that awaited me. 

My dad Jimin Park had lived, miraculously, despite having fallen no less than fifty feet and landing directly on top of Antonio Canova’s original piece:  _ Psyche Revived by Cupid’s kiss _ . I mourned with saccharine ruination as crude imagery of such a divine work of classicism flitted in my mind. Shattered wings, shards of aged marble strewn throughout the lush vegetation of our garden. 

But that wasn’t what crushed me the most.

Standing before us, painted with blood and powdered marble… Was my dad Jimin. Except, somehow… He had massive tits.

He smirked. “Surprised? I would be too.”

  
  
“Oppa… What’s the meaning of this?!”

  
  
“I’m tired.” He whispered, not daring to meet the burning gaze of my dad Taehyung.

“Excuse me?”

  
  
“I said,” He gritted his teeth, tears brimming in the shit coloured cornfields of his eyes. “I’M TIRED!”   
  


“TIRED OF NEVER BEING GOOD ENOUGH. No one ever wants to LOOK at me, or TALK to me, or EVEN… Give me a rim job. Not once. Never!”

Sniffling pathetically, he spewed out every thought that appeared in his mind. He was upset, and we were all aware of that. But it was just so uncharacteristic of Jimin to express his emotions- today really was the end of an era. And it made me beyond uncomfortable.

  
“As I fell down those seven floors, I realised something. I realised that if I wanted your approval... I would have to work for it.”

  
  
He smiled, a wave of serenity enriching his soft features. 

  
  
“So I worked.”

  
  
“But… How did you get a tit job done in less than five minutes? And how is it fully healed?”

  
  
My dad Taehyung was unmoved. He turned to me, framing my face with his large, warm hands.

  
  
“Breeding with this woman will produce a new race of humans, far superior to anything the earth has ever seen.” He murmured, staring into my eyes.    


  
“The fuck are you talking ab-”

  
  
They were so warm. “Didn’t you ever find it strange?”

  
  
“Find what… What are you talking about?” My face grew hotter still, lulled by the honey of his voice.   
  


“I just went through extensive irreversible surgery, all for YOU. And you’re STILL ignoring me?!” My dad Jimin screamed, his tits and asscheeks wobbling in time with the sobs that racked his body, all of his fleshy appendages synchronising bewitchingly.

But still, my dad Taehyung never cast his own eyes away from mine. “Most guys can’t just cum once an hour every day- you know that, right?”

  
  
I rolled my eyes nonchalantly. “Sure they can. You’re all just too weak to try.”

  
  
He slinked up beside me, fingers intertwined with the mass of dark locks on my head. “We both know that’s not true, son.” 

“You were designed in the image of God! Look, we’ve never told you this, but…” My dad Jungkook gulped, his eyes desperately searching for the support of another human.

  
  
My dad Taehyung sighed whilst rubbing his temple. “Men aren’t supposed to have three testicals, son.” 

The world was tilting. I couldn’t find anything to hold onto as I clambered, heaving, desperately escaping that yawning cave which opened beneath my feet.


End file.
